Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
TWO WEEKS LATER
Kennedi stood in front of her bedroom mirror, smoothing down the black midi dress one more time.
She was proud of the She was proud of her reflection looking back at her.
Hair freshly done in soft curls from the salon that morning, nails a soft pink, skin glowing from the facial her mom had insisted she get.
“That man is spoiling you,” her mom had said when she dropped her off an hour ago. “Don’t fight it, baby. Let him.”
And Kennedi had. For once, she’d let someone take care of her without guilt, without the need to prove she could do it herself.
She checked her phone. Rolani said he’d be here at 7. It was 6:58.
A knock at the door.
She smiled, grabbing her clutch and slipping on her heels before heading to answer it.
When she opened the door, Rolani stood there looking like he’d stepped out of a magazine. All black—black button-down that fit him perfectly, top buttons undone showing his chain, black slacks tailored to his frame. Locs freshly retwisted and pulled back. Gold gleaming when he smiled at her.
In one hand, he held a bouquet of peonies—her favorite. In the other, a small gift bag with tissue paper peeking out the top.
“Damn, Ken,” he said, eyes roaming over her as she walked toward him. “You look beautiful.”
“Thank you.” She did a little spin. “The self-care day was needed. I feel good.”
“You look better than good, baby.” He pulled her close, one hand on her waist, the other cupping her face.
“You look good too. Really good.”
“These are for you. And this is for Little LA.”
Her eyes widened. “You got the baby something?”
“Open it.”
She set the flowers down on her entry table and took the bag, pulling out the tissue paper. Inside was the softest baby onesie she’d ever felt—cream-colored with “Made in L.A… ishh.” embroidered on the front in gold thread.
“Baby, this is so cute. I love it.”
“Good, bring it with us. You ready?”
“Ready for what? You still haven’t told me where we’re going.”
“The studio.”
She frowned. “My studio? Why?”
“You’ll see.” He opened the passenger door for her. “Trust me.”
She climbed in, and he closed the door behind her before getting in the driver’s side.
The drive was short—only ten minutes—but Kennedi’s curiosity was killing her.
“Rolani, seriously. What’s at the studio?”
“Patience, baby.” His hand found her thigh, thumb tracing lazy circles. “You’ll see in five minutes.”
When they pulled up to Second Street, and he parked in front of her building, Kennedi noticed another car in the lot. A white SUV she didn’t recognize.
“Who’s here?” she asked.
“Come on.” He got out, came around to her side, and helped her out of the truck.
He unlocked the studio door and held it open for her.
When she stepped inside, she stopped.
The studio had been transformed.
Professional lighting set up in the corner. A white backdrop hung against the wall. And in the center of the room, a rolling clothing rack filled with dresses.
A Black woman stood near the camera equipment, smiling warmly. Hair pulled back, camera around her neck.
“Kennedi,” Rolani said softly, his hand on the small of her back. “This is Janae. She’s a photographer. We’re doing your maternity shoot. Tonight. Here.”
Kennedi’s hand went to her mouth. “What?”
“I wanted pictures of you like this,” he said, turning her to face him. “Carrying our son. Building your own shit. In the space that’s yours. I wanted to capture all of it.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “Rolani...”
“Don’t cry yet,” he said, wiping under her eyes gently. “You gon look like a Raccoon for the pictures.”
Janae stepped forward, extending her hand. “It’s so good to finally meet you. Rolani’s been planning this for weeks.”
“Weeks huh?” Kennedi looked at him.
He shrugged.
Janae gestured to the clothing rack. “I curated these based on what Rolani told me about your style. We’ve got options—elegant, sexy, soft, bold. Whatever makes you feel beautiful. And if none of these work, we can pivot. This is your shoot. This is your night.”
Kennedi walked over to the rack slowly, fingers brushing against the fabrics.
A cream-colored gown that would photograph like a dream.
A sheer black number that was sophisticated and sensual.
A form-fitting nude dress. The furry robe—soft, luxurious, perfect for those intimate close-up shots.
Several dresses with strategic cutouts are designed specifically for showing off a baby bump.
“These are perfect.” She turned back to Rolani.
“You’re perfect.” He came up behind her, hands on her waist. “I know you like your privacy, so Janae’s clear—no posting without your approval. These are for us. Unless you say otherwise.”
She turned in his arms, looking up at him. “You really planned all this.”
“Yeah, baby. I did, but it’s just one part of the night.” He kissed her forehead. “Now go pick an outfit. Let’s make some memories.”
The next hour and a half flew by in flashes of light and laughter.
Janae directed them through different setups—Kennedi alone, radiant and powerful, hands cradling her belly.
Then, with Rolani, his presence grounding her, his hands covering hers, their foreheads pressed together.
The shots of the furry robe felt intimate and sensual.
The flowing gowns made her feel ethereal.
The form-fitting dresses showed every curve, every change her body had gone through.
At one point, Rolani knelt in front of her, pressing kisses to her belly while Janae captured it. Kennedi’s fingers threaded through his locs, and she felt tears prick her eyes at the tenderness of it all.
“You two are beautiful together,” Janae said softly, lowering her camera. “These are going to be stunning.”
“One last one, right?” Rolani asked, looking over at Janae.
She smiled and nodded, already adjusting her camera angle.
Rolani grabbed Kennedi’s hand and pulled her close. His heart was pounding so hard he could hear it in his ears. He’d been planning this moment for two weeks—longer, if he was honest—but now that it was here, his hands were shaking.
He reached into his pocket, fingers closing around the ring. He’d picked it up three days ago. Simple, elegant, a solitaire diamond that caught the light the same way her eyes did when she smiled.
Without breaking eye contact, he slid the ring onto her finger.
Kennedi’s breath caught. “Rolani…what are you doing?”
His throat was tight, pulse racing. He swallowed hard, trying to find the words he’d practiced in his head a hundred times.
“I know this is crazy,” he started, voice rougher than he intended.
“We did a lot of shit backwards. Shit, I’m doing it right now.
” He laughed, nervous, his thumb rubbing circles on her hand.
“But I want you to know I’m very serious about you.
About us. And these pictures don’t feel right without a ring on your finger. ”
He took a breath, steadying himself even as his heart threatened to beat out of his chest.
“So before we take this last picture, will you wear this ring and consider marrying me?” His voice dropped lower. “And this is not for an answer today. Unless you feel how I feel. I’m rambling and shit.”
He stepped back, hand going to the back of his neck—a nervous habit he couldn’t shake.
Kennedi looked down at the ring, then back up at him. Tears streamed down her face, and for a terrifying second, he couldn’t read her expression.
Then she smiled. “I will.”
The relief, the joy, the love—it all hit him at once.
He handed her the onesie with trembling hands, and together they held it up between them. The camera clicked as he kissed her, soft and sure, the ring catching the light on her finger. She snapped a few more pictures of the happy couple to capture the moment.
When they pulled apart, Janae lowered her camera, wiping at her own eyes. “Got it,” she whispered. “This was so sweet and nice to be a part of.”
She quietly packed up her equipment, giving them space, the weight of what had happened still settling over the room. When she was ready to leave, she came over and hugged Kennedi tight.
“Congratulations,” she said softly. “You two are beautiful together. I’ll have the photos ready in a week.”
“Thank you,” Kennedi managed, voice thick with emotion.
Janae squeezed Rolani’s shoulder on her way out. “You did good, bro.”
He nodded, throat still too tight to speak.
The door closed behind her, and suddenly it was the two of them in the quiet studio.
Kennedi looked down at her hand—at the ring catching the light, the diamond sitting perfectly on her finger. She wiggled her hand and stomped her foot.
“Rolani, I—” She looked up at him, tears still streaming. “I can’t believe you did that.”
He pulled her close, both hands cupping her face. “I meant every word, Ken. And I want you. For real. Forever.”
She kissed him then, deep and slow, tasting salt from her tears.
When they pulled apart, she laughed through her crying. “I look a mess.”
“You look perfect.” He wiped under her eyes gently. “But I’m not done.”
She frowned. “What?”
He pulled out his phone, tapped the screen a few times, and music filled the room—soft and soulful. He Proposed by Kelly Price. A moment later, she was in his arms, swaying with him. He couldn’t sing, and neither could she, but neither of them cared.
He proposed to me
He proposed with a diamond ring
“You are so romantic. Who knew?”
“Shit, you bring this shit out of me. I’ve been gone, and I felt like I was letting you down. You deserve this shit.”
“Oh, baby. Stop, I’m happy. I’m the last person to ask about sitting still. But I’m proud of you. I’m thankful for you. I could never feel let down.”
“Sit with me for a minute,” he said, leading her over to the small couch she’d set up in the corner of the studio. “Breathe. Process.”
They sat, and she curled into his side, one hand resting on her belly, the other—her left hand—held up in front of her so she could see the ring.